


Aftermath

by Tahlruil



Series: Walking the Wall [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good intentions aren't always enough, and living with consequences takes courage... and good friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to have chapters, because otherwise anyone reading would have to scroll to oblivion.
> 
> If one wanted to have some idea about the probable chronological order of this series, I know that this one definitely takes place after 'The Trouble With Heights' and before 'All in a Name'. The timing of the other two is still pretty nebulous.

She was back.

Hawke knew that much, but everything else was harder to pin down. He’d thought… no, he’d expected that Alysia would come find him on the battlements once she’d debriefed with her merry band of map-oglers. A little egotistical of him, perhaps, but they’d had a routine. A routine he found comfortable and soothing; a routine he’d missed while she was away.

It hadn’t been completely boring during those three days, not with Iron Bull and Sera left behind as well. They’d gotten into trouble once or twice, caused a little mayhem and gotten _spectacularly_ drunk, but there was still something missing. He wasn’t lonely, exactly, and if he’d grinned and climbed to their spot as soon as he knew she'd returned, it wasn’t because he’d missed _her_. Not a bit. He’d missed the walking and the bickering, that was all.

So he’d waited… and waited… and waited. The sun was dipping below all the fucking mountains that he couldn’t tell apart and his grin had turned to a dark scowl before he admitted the truth to himself. She wasn’t coming and he’d been a fool to wait so long, to think talking with _him_ would be the first thing on her mind. The ‘why’ of her absence wasn’t really that important. Maybe she hadn’t missed this… whatever it was they had as much as him. Maybe some Orlesian fop had finally managed to impress her, and she wouldn’t come out of respect to the dandy. Maybe she’d just finally realized what everyone else knew; he wasn’t worth her time. These days he was more a curiosity than anything, and it didn’t take most people long to get what they wanted from him. A few words about the Arishok, Blood Mages, Meredith and Orsino and they were off, giggling and whispering. Alysia had, no doubt, slaked her curiosity and moved on to people who mattered.

“ _Fuck._ ”

“That what you do up here all day? Don’t get me wrong, snarling and cursing at the sky isn’t the worst hobby you could have, but-“

“Go away Varric.” The bitterness in his voice wouldn’t be enough to warn away the dwarf, he knew that. Making a concentrated effort to lighten his own mood, he watched the self-professed storyteller saunter towards him, then lean casually against the stone next to him. “Really, Varric, you should go. I have more cursing to do, and then the blaspheming, and then of course the bitter weeping over my staff. Busy apostate night, and having you here only makes it seem pathetic.”

“Perish the thought. I’ll just stand here quietly and take note of how manly you make weeping seem.” Jarod expected him to continue, or launch into a story about what had happened at the Winter Palace, but instead there was only silence. Glancing over, he caught the troubled, pensive look on his friend’s face, and it made him worry – Varric was almost never visibly upset. “Look, even if you and Dimples don’t talk about how you walk up here all the time, I know you do. If you’re up here waiting for her-“

“Wait, Dimples? _That’s_ what you call the Lady Inquisitor?”

“Not the point, Hawke. If you’re up here for her, you’ll have a long wait. Things at the Winter Palace were… well let’s just say it’ll be a great story, but living it was worse than drinking bronto piss. The nobles there were almost as bad as members of the Merchant’s Guild. Toss in a few mentions of Paragons and a yearning for tunnels full of nug-dung and I’d feel right at home.”

“That bad?”

“Oh yeah. Ruffles and Nightingale were in their element, of course – they enjoyed all the scheming and intrigue. They like the Game so much I’m surprised they don’t drag Dimples into it more often. Curly got mauled by a lusty crowd of Orlesian admirers, which was my favorite part. Sparkler dazzled and thrilled as the mysterious and dangerous Tevinter mage, the Seeker glowered, and Bianca and I hid in the vestibule whenever we weren’t killing things.”

“And Al- the Inquisitor?”

“She… did her best.”

Maker’s tears, what did _that_ mean? He couldn’t picture Alysia doing anything but charming the masks off the Orlesian courtiers. Not only was she smart and reasonably funny, she also had the weight of the Inquisition behind her. She was the bloody Herald of Andraste, and that whole country made piety both real and pretend an art form. How on earth could Alysia not have impressed them? “What happened, exactly?”

“I honestly don’t even know where to start.” The dwarf would have sounded amused, but there was just a hint of resigned sorrow in his voice. “Even if she’s a Trevelyan, she’s still a mage; they didn’t like that. I think the only way she could have made a worse first impression would be if she were a Qunari. Once she got inside, she went all wide-eyed and awed by the display.”

“It was her first time seeing anything like that.”

“Yeah.” Varric sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of helplessness. “Ruffles forgets that the Inquisitor wasn’t really raised a noble. The Circle doesn’t throw a lot of parties, from what I understand. Orgies and demon summoning are the standard forms of entertainment. Anyway, she was so distracted that she tripped over her own feet. Tumbled down the stairs and almost took Gaspard with her; he moved quick enough to get out of the way. The herald announcing all the important people didn’t. So there she was in a heap on the floor with everyone staring, all tangled up with him and doing her best not to look miserable. It only got worse from there.”

“Andraste’s holy knickers, how could it get _worse_?”

Though he could hardly believe it, the night had indeed gotten worse, and Varric detailed everything for him. From getting caught sneaking around in the servant’s quarters to arriving back at the ball after all three summoning bells had rung; from spilling wine on Lady Mantillon to tracking blood all over the carpet after foiling several assassins from Tevinter. On and on went the list of little missteps and small embarrassments, and Jarod was left nearly speechless. That still wasn’t the worst of it all, however.

When she’d tried to warn Empress Celene and the court that Grand Duchess Florianne was the mastermind of the assassination attempts, they hadn’t believed her. In fact, she’d made such a poor impression on them before that point that they’d _laughed_ at her. Varric said it had started as snickering from a few people, and then it spread until the whole court was having fun at her expense.

That had made it easy for Florianne to strike.

“She blames herself, and I think Josephine does too. Leliana was more pragmatic; she’d already suggested that they should let the assassination succeed.” How the spy master could think Alysia would do that, Jarod had no idea. The Inquisitor hated senseless death, and he knew she would have fought tooth and nail to keep the Empress alive if she’d had the chance. He also didn’t miss the fact that Varric was no longer using nicknames for the two advisors; he clearly disapproved. “Curly got her out of there pretty quick after we took Florianne down. We stayed just long enough to endorse Gaspard, and then he hurried her out of there like he had a dragon on his heels. Josephine and Leliana wanted to stay for the speeches, the empty mourning and the celebration of a new Emperor. They do love the Grand Game.”

“Not much of a fucking _game_ if you ask me. Games have winners.” Holy Maker, but Alysia must be miserable. No wonder she hadn’t come to the wall to take a stroll – she’d be holed away somewhere, beating herself up. Jarod doubted either Leliana or Josephine would try to comfort her, and Cullen was all elbows at that sort of thing. Most of her friends were that way, actually, except for… “Varric, why are you here talking to me? She could use a friend right now, poor girl.” Damn them all, she was so young and so unprepared for the viciousness that came from attracting noble attention. At least he’d had a little practice with the vipers in charge of Kirkwall before he’d been made the Blighted Champion; she’d been too busy closing rifts, battling demons and saving the world to attend many social functions. An oversight her advisors would surely move to correct.

“She could. But I’m not the friend she needs right now, Hawke. If I find her, we’ll talk about nothing, I’ll tell a story, and then she’ll lie through her teeth and tell me she’s fine; it’s what we did all the way home.” Another sight left the dwarf, and he used one hand to rub his chin while the other reached behind him to give Bianca a brief caress. “I can’t help her right now because she doesn’t want me to. She might feel a little differently about the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Varric, if she doesn’t want to talk to you, she definitely won’t want to see me. You could get a dead man to wake up and tell his story.”

“Of course! I couldn’t call myself a master of storytelling otherwise. But I don’t think she wants to tell a story right now.”

“Either way, she clearly doesn’t want me.” Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Jarod kicked the wall once, then again before leaning forward and bracing himself on it. He hated feeling helpless or useless, and just then he felt both. “She knew I’d be here, and she didn’t come. If she wanted to see me-“

“There’s no way she didn’t take a beating in that War Room, Hawke. My guess is she’s off licking her wounds somewhere more private.” Varric paused, watching his face closely. “Look, I think I can get her up here. If I do, will you just talk to her?”

Would he talk to her? He didn’t think it would do any good, since he was shit at making people feel better. The only person he’d been able to ‘comfort’ was Fenris; all the elf needed was a bottle of wine to smash and someone to rant at. Everyone else was so _complicated_ and he always made an ass of himself. Really, he’d be doing her a favor if he told Varric ‘no’ and just went back to the empty, crumbling room he was nesting in.

“If you can find her and she’ll come… I’ll talk to her.”

Grinning, the dwarf pulled out a piece of vellum, a quill and an inkpot (Maker, where had he been keeping it all?) and handed them over with a flourish. “Ask her to come, Hawke. A meeting with you under the stars and the moon… How could she resist?”

“I don’t think-“

“Write her, Hawke. I think it’ll get her here, and Bianca thinks it’s sweet.”

He knew Varric well – the dwarf was quite possibly his best friend. That knowing was what got him to grab hold of the vellum and quill, swearing under his breath the whole time. If he didn’t do this, Varric would never leave him alone and Alysia _definitely_ wouldn’t come to see him. So, using the last rays of the dying sun to see, Jarod wrote the blasted note.

_Alysia –  
I was going to write something witty about mountains, since I know you enjoy that. I think I finally know which one is really my favorite, by the way, and I was going to show you once you got home and came to find me. Varric came instead, and he wouldn’t let me talk about them at all; I need you for that. You’re the only one who lets me blather on about them._

_If you need someone to blather at as well, I’m still waiting for you._

_Wear a cloak, because it’s as cold as Maferath’s hairy balls out here._

_Hawke_


	2. Needing Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his dislike of heavy moments, Jarod does his best to help Alysia make it through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lovely case of bronchitis. Hacking coughs make it hard to think; I hope this chapter isn't too terrible as a result.

It took Varric almost half an hour to return; Jarod had nearly given up. As it was, the dwarf was noticeably Alysia free. Growing softly to himself, he kicked at the stone wall, and was gratified by the dull ache it roused in his foot. When Varric got close enough, he rounded on the other and opened his mouth, intending on railing at the dwarf for getting his hopes up. Unfortunately, his tirade was abruptly and unceremoniously halted before he could start.

Had Varric really just thrown a bundle of cloth in his face?

Yes, yes he had. The stupefied Hawke didn’t manage to catch it before it tumbled down to the walkway. All he could do was gape at Varric, wondering when his life had turned into a comedy.

“That will teach you to jump to conclusions.” The dwarf’s voice was unbelievably smug, and he wore a smirk that almost made Jarod want to punch him in the face. “Never yell at a man in the middle of doing you a favor, Hawke. It usually doesn’t end well.”

“I didn’t yell. Anyway, you didn’t bring her, so… Favor failed, now go away.”

“Your lack of faith in me hurts. Did I or did I not say I could get her up here? I’ve never let you down before, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“There was that time in the Undercity.”

“Not my fault – faulty map.”

“The time in the Blooming Rose?”

“A mere miscalculation, and Blondie _did_ save all your fingers.”

“And the fiasco in Antiva?”

The Rivaini’s fault.”

“How about that time-“

“Hawke. Do you want to spend the evening pointing out technicalities, or do you want to talk to her?”

“I… what? And I’d be perfectly happy to just talk with you. It's not like I _need_ to see her.”

“Whatever you say. Just so you know, Dimples didn’t want to meet you here. I don’t think she’s in the mood for a leisurely stroll. She said that you’d know where to find her – she’s probably waiting there now.”

Jarod didn’t wait for the dwarf to finish his sentence; he’d already turned and started for their spot. He was such a fool for not realizing that was where she would want to meet. They were both comfortable there, making it the best place for deep conversations. Why hadn’t he known that? Suddenly, a hand caught his sleeve and he shook his arm to try and dislodge whoever it was.

“Hold on there, Hawke. I know you’re eager to see your lady, but you’re forgetting something.”

“She isn’t mine. I’m probably going to regret this, but what am I forgetting?”

Varric sighed and shook his head, like Jarod was a huge disappointment. “Honestly, Hawke. It’s a wonder you got anything done in Kirkwall. Look down, and you’ll see something the Lady Inquisitor spelled just for you.”

For a moment, he was completely confused; look down? Still, he did it, and his eye caught on that bundle of cloth that had so recently clobbered him in the face. “This is… for me?” Once he had it in his hands, he realized that it was giving off a bit of warmth. It had probably been a bit warmer before sitting on the cold stone of the walkway, of course, but it was still better than nothing. Unfolding it, he couldn’t help but laugh when he realized that Alysia had sent a cloak for him to wear. It was so like her to think of his comfort even when she had so much else to worry about.

“Thank you, Varric.”

“You’re welcome, Hawke. Now go get the girl; it’ll be a great story someday.”

Later, he would set the dwarf straight, but just then, he had a lady to see. Throwing the cloak on, he headed off to meet Alysia with long strides, ignoring the way Varric was laughing behind him.

 

If he’d been irritated at the Orlesian court and Alysia’s advisors before, he was sent into a rage when the Inquisitor came into view. She wasn’t standing, but instead was sitting on the brink of that gap in the walls. Her shoulders were hunched over; she was making herself as small as possible, and though her feet were hanging down enough that she could swing them merrily, she just… let them dangle. They hung in the air like dead weight, alerting Hawke to the seriousness of the matter. No one could resist the allure of feet-kicking unless they were deeply depressed, and he found he hated seeing her that way. At least she was wearing a cloak, but that small bit of comfort didn’t seem to be doing her much good. Clearly, what had happened in the Winter Palace – and later in the War Room – had done a number on her.

Josephine and Leliana were in for a series of nasty little shocks, he decided grimly. Their hair wouldn’t lay flat for weeks.

He really didn’t know what to say or do, but he figured sitting next to her would be a good start. Silence continued to hang between them, so thick it was almost like he was drowning. Before he could suffocate completely, he opened his mouth; she beat him to the punch.

“I’m assuming Varric told you what a disaster I was.” Her voice was never really expressive, remaining even and steady most of the time. But now it was just… just empty. The certainty was gone, leaving her tone flat and almost dead. “I knew it wasn’t going to go well. Everyone expected so much of me, and I couldn’t even-“ As her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap, Jarod noticed white knuckles and little crescent shaped marks on her palms. Without thinking, he reached out and placed one of his hands over both; it dwarfed hers, and they gave one spasm before finally going still. Afraid she would start again, he kept his there.

After a moment, it seemed only natural to slip his thumb under her fingers to rub her palm, trying to soothe the little hurts she’d given herself.

“I went to save the Empress, Hawke. If she hadn’t been in danger, I wouldn’t have stepped foot inside that place.” The laugh she gave was bitter, and she curled into herself even tighter, like she could hide from everything if she just made herself small enough. “I needn’t have bothered anyway. She died right in front of me. Half the court was still laughing as the dagger ripped through her. I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want her to die. Cullen might have be right about Gaspard; I was thinking about trying to get Celene to step down so he could be Emperor. But I _never_ wanted her to die.”

“I know.”

By now, he’d taken hold of her right hand in both of his, pulling it over until they rested in his lap. The move had been idle, and when he started to massage the delicate appendage, it was absently. Most of him was focused on her words, and what to say to her. Andraste’s ass, what could he say? He began to thumb through his list of references, wondering what his friends would have done. Anders would mean well, but would slip into a rant about mage rights; Isabela would get the Inquisitor drunk. Fenris might offer to go rip hearts out for her – he was so much happier these days. Sebastian would preach, Aveline would offer goats, and Varric would tell her a story.

None of it felt right.

The silence that was between them was heavy with meaning. She was waiting for him to say something, anything. Alysia might even be waiting for him to either condemn her or dismiss the entire thing; he would never do the former, but jokes were ready to tumble from his lips just to diffuse the tension in her body. Jarod knew that was not the course he should take, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“It wasn’t your fault, Alysia. You did all you could.”

“Did I really? I was a mess even before Florianne killed the Empress. I’m sure Varric told you all about it. Alysia the bumpkin, Alysia the klutz, Alysia the _fool_. I was a jester more than Inquisitor. I tried so hard, Hawke.” Suddenly her voice had feeling again; it might have made _him_ feel better if she didn’t sound like she was on the verge of tears. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more; kill everyone who’d made her feel this way, or wrap her up in his arms so she could cry it out. He was obviously getting soft in his old age - as she continued talking, he switched his attention to her left hand, trying to help her relax.

The mark buzzed and pulsed beneath his fingers, and he wondered how much it hurt her. She didn’t seem inclined to talk about it, but it couldn’t be comfortable to have so much foreign magic implanted in her hand. If she weren’t in so much emotional pain, he might have diverted the conversation to ask questions about the mark and what it entailed. Just then, however, he sensed that she needed to talk, to draw out the poison.

“Once I fell down the stairs, it was over. If I’d just been able to pick myself up and say something witty, they’d have forgiven me. If I’d done _anything_ besides just sit there… I could feel them watching me. All those eyes staring out of emotionless masks, and it felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t _breathe_ Hawke. Cullen got me back on my feet, but the damage was done. After that I couldn’t do anything right. Celene paid the price, but I failed everyone. Josephine won’t even look at me, and Leliana is acting like this was the course I chose – like I let her die on purpose – and says it was the right ‘choice’ to make. Cullen didn’t say anything, but he can’t be happy with what happened. I made the whole Inquisition look ridiculous. Josephine said in one night I destroyed all we’ve been working to build, and she’s right. I ruined everything.”

She was definitely crying now, her tears glistening in the moonlight when he looked to her face. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, and he held her hand just a little tighter. If he held on tight enough, maybe he could keep her from breaking.

“Josephine and Leliana did all they could to get me ready. They gave up hours, days of their time to give me the tools I needed, and I still couldn’t do anything right. They were counting on me. This is what happens when people expect anything from me; I fail them. How can I save the world if I can’t even manage a Blighted ball? Don’t ever count on me, Hawke. I’ll only-“

“That’s enough of that, thank you.” Even as he spoke, he was lifting one hand to press his index finger to her lips. Her eyes went wide, tears still dripping down her cheeks; she was shocked, but blessedly silent. “I’ll listen to a lot of things, Lady Inquisitor, but I cannot and will not listen to you do this to yourself.” His hand dropped back to his lap, and he was massaging hers again, working out the tension. “Unless I miss my guess, which I never do, you’ll get enough of this from Josephine and Leliana. The nobles won’t be kind either – it goes against their very nature.”

The little sniffle he heard had him fantasizing about killing every single person who’d been at that ball. They’d made her feel inferior when she was, in fact, worth more than all of them put together. It must be gratifying for them, to think of the Inquisitor as less than – it let them think that she couldn’t possibly be a threat, and that she’d need their help to fix the world.

“They’re all wrong, Alysia. You… you’re…” Shaking his head, he looked up at the moon, searching for the right words. “You try so hard, even when it nearly breaks you. I’ve watched you give everything that you have, and if it isn’t enough for those fools, then fuck them. Andraste’s ass, not a single one of them could do what you’ve done. And you _care_ … Maker, how you care. I’ve heard from Varric and Iron Bull how you run around solving little problems for as many people as you can. You’re enough, Alysia – just being you and doing your best is enough. If you can do that, everything will be fine in the end. You won’t fail the world, and you could never fail me.”

He stopped the hand massage he was giving, but his right hand stayed where it was, gently holding onto hers. “I know it’s hard to believe anything good about yourself; I have trouble with that myself. So if you can’t right now, that’s alright. I’ll be here to remind you.” Nodding, he lifted his left hand and slipped it underneath her braid, curling the appendage around the back of her neck. Now his thumb was rubbing soothing circles there, and he felt stiff, knotted muscles begin to relax.

“I’ll be here, and so will Varric, Bull and Sera. I don’t know Vivienne – she seems like a cold bitch.” The Inquisitor gave a strangled laugh through her tears, which he counted as a victory. “But Solas, Blackwall, Dorian… you have people on your side. We’ll all be here for you. So if you can’t believe in yourself, believe in us. We’ll do everything we can to support you.” Before he could think better of it, Jarod turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his eyes drifting shut.

For a moment, she went stiff as a board, and Hawke cursed himself. He’d done it wrong, and now she was even more upset. For all that so many people called him charming, he was absolute shit when it came to dealing with people. Whenever he had to be serious, he fucked it all up. Maker’s breath, he should have refused Varric’s offer – it would have been better for her.

All his doubts and self-recriminations vanished in a puff of smoke and a decided heat in his cheeks when the tension broke. Giving a loud, broken sob, the woman turned towards him completely, burying her face in his shoulder. Now she was pressed against his side, hiding from the world and crying her heart out. For a moment, he froze; he wasn’t sure how to do this. Was he supposed to hold her? Did he make soothing noises and offer inane reassurances? Was he supposed to just be quiet? Was this a quiet moment on his part?

By Andraste’s lily-white ass, he was terrible at this.

In the end, he decided he should just let her cry. The hand at the back of her neck alternated between massaging there and slipping down her back to rub soothing circles. His right hand, meanwhile, was running up and down her arm, silently encouraging her to let it all out. It all served to make her cry harder, but… maybe that was alright. After a few minutes, when he got more comfortable, he kissed the crown of her head, then kept his face buried in her hair, rocking gently back and forth.

If this was what Alysia needed, then by the Maker, he would sit out here for as long as she needed. No matter how cold it got or how wet her tears made his shirt, Jarod wasn’t going to budge until she was ready to face the world again.

Only then would he walk her back to her room and begin plotting revenge on her behalf.


	3. Taking Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia learns that Hawke cares about more than just mountains... even if he can't say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Alysia to get her say before the scene ended, so I switched POVs. If that's terribly jarring, I do apologize.
> 
> This is the last chapter, and probably the last in this series for a bit; I'm finally ready to write their meeting and explore their adventures together. Might still add things here and there, of course, but the bulk of my attention will be elsewhere.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3

This was, without a doubt, the longest they’d spent in each other’s company without talking. Alysia couldn’t reliably say how long they’d been sitting on the wall, but it had to have been at least an hour. Most of that had been spent crying into his shoulder; it had gone on long enough that she had a headache and her eyes felt all swollen and raw. She knew that, later, she’d probably be incredibly embarrassed by the display, but at the moment she was glad to have him there. Being alone with all her grief and shame would have been torture.

Through it all – each storm of tears and every lull – he hadn’t said a word. His hands had done the talking for him, letting her know that he was there and he cared. Instead of offering empty reassurances, he’d rubbed her back and neck, encouraging her to just let it all go. At some point, she wasn’t sure when or how, her braid had been undone, letting him run his fingers through her hair. It felt wonderful, especially when he let his fingernails lightly graze over her scalp. Eventually, she’d tucked herself completely against his side, her legs beneath her as he supported her weight; one of her hands had gone to his chest and tangled in his shirt, holding on tightly.

Once the tears subsided for the last time, she’d expected him to pull away… but she’d been wrong. No, one strong arm remained at her back and strong fingers were still rubbing her neck, occasionally delving into her hair. Every once in a while, usually when she hiccupped or her breath caught, he brushed his lips over her temple – she didn’t know if she should tell him that his beard tickled her skin, and she liked it.

Alysia knew that she couldn’t hide here with him forever, but she was reluctant to break the spell. Maybe he felt the same, and that was why he still hadn’t broken the silence. The Hawke she knew _always_ had something to say. It was, apparently, up to her to return them to the real world. 

Even if she really, really didn’t want to.

“Sorry I got you all wet and snotty. I probably ruined your shirt.” Maker, was that her voice? Rusty and hoarse from the sobs that had been torn from her throat, she hardly recognized it. She certainly didn’t have control over it now.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m going to sell it to a collector later. This snotty shirt is going to make me a fortune.” Another drawn out beat of silence, and then he was looking down at her, wearing a frown. “You don’t have to try so hard to be alright, not yet.”

“I know.” Hawke would let her be upset for as long as she needed or even just wanted. “I just… I can’t think about it anymore.” Every time she closed her eyes, she could picture it all with utter clarity; the laughter of the court, the agony on Celene’s mostly-unmasked face, the look of triumph on Florianne’s, the disappointment and disgust in the eyes of Josephine and Leliana. She knew the events at the Winter Palace would haunt her for the rest of her life… so she would make a concentrated effort to set it to one side for the night. “Please, Jarod?”

His name felt forbidden on her lips, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, it would have made her blush. As it was, she pretended not to notice the way his breath caught or the way his arm tightened around her. Acknowledging them would mean a whole rat’s nest of problems that she just couldn’t afford. What they had was comfortable and easy; she wouldn’t put it at risk by driving herself crazy with thoughts of ‘what if’.

“Fair enough. You won’t hear another thing on the topic from me, at least for tonight.”

And just like that, the moment was over. His arm was no longer around her – he’d pulled it away so he could lean back on both hands, looking up at the stars. It was strange, how much colder the night suddenly seemed. Pulling her cloak a bit tighter around her, she turned her attention to the sky as well. “I think it might snow later.”

“Really? We’re going to talk about the _weather_? I think not, Lady Inquisitor. I can’t show you my mountain-“

“You don’t _have_ a-“

“What’s that? I can’t hear you when you’re being cruel to me. Anyway, my mountain. We can’t see it, because the sun is refusing to cooperate at the moment. That will have to wait until tomorrow. It’s very impressive, by the way. Unforgettable, even.”

“The fact that you seem completely serious right now is disturbing.”

This… _this_ was what she needed, now that all the tears were out. No questions asked, no forcing her to relive that horrible night in detail. They’d slipped right back into their comfortable banter, bickering over things that didn’t matter in the slightest. She didn’t have to think, didn’t have to worry about the words coming out of her mouth. Without the weight of the Inquisition or the world on her shoulders, she could just… be.

“I’m always serious. Thedas just isn’t ready for a man of my discerning tastes and temperament.”

“Mm. So you think that you’re where the future is heading?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Good thing the world is going to end then.” It was too, because she wasn’t going to be able to stop it. Corypheus was going to win, because she was utterly incompetent; she couldn’t hope to defeat a Magister who had breached the Golden City itself. Not with Josephine sure that they would lose most of their diplomatic support and Leliana pushing for more ‘drastic’ actions. The Inquisition wasn’t going to be able to recover, and if she wasn’t careful, she would be responsible for a lot of assassinations and other questionable acts. And what about her troops? Would Cullen’s soldiers eve-

Suddenly, Hawke tugged on her hair; not hard enough to hurt, but it definitely startled her out of her rumination. “Alright, since you wandered off into the Land of Horrible Thoughts and didn’t hear my very funny retort, we’ll switch topics.”

Looking over, she wrinkled her nose at him, batting at his hand. “Never pull a lady’s hair, Hawke.”

“Never? I can think of several situations where hair pulling can be-“

“Stop. Stop right there. I don’t need to hear about your sex-capades.”

“Maybe you should pick one of those fops littering your main hall and have some for yourself.”

“No, thank you. None of them care about me. They just want to sleep with the Inquisitor. Such an illustrious deed would grant bragging rights for forever.”

“Good point. … you could interview them and pick out your favorites. Then Iron Bull and I could have a nice, friendly talk with each candidate. We’d weed out the trophy hunters for you. ”

“Stop being so interested in my sex life.”

“So you have one then? Good for you!”

Alysia rolled her eyes and fought the urge to laugh; she shouldn’t be happy. She shouldn’t get moments like this, because Celene never would again. But it was so hard to resist him when he was like this, and a choked laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Hawke. If you don’t stop, I’m going to tell Cassandra that you’re trying to compromise my virtue.” He gasped like he was auditioning for an Orlesian play – it was awful of her to find so much satisfaction in his audible horror.

“You _wouldn’t._ ”

“I think I might. She would get you to stop this ridiculous line of questioning.”

“By death. The Seeker would stop it by killing me – killing me very, very dead. She would hang my body on a pike and mount it in front of the door to you living quarters as a warning. Think of the _smell_ , Alysia. Tell her anything and you’ll have a stinky corpse rotting right outside your door.”

“Fine, I won’t tell her, as long as you stop.”

“Done.” She gave him the side-eye to see if he actually meant that; he wore an innocent look she could see by torchlight that didn’t bode well. Maybe he would leave the subject alone for now, but she had a feeling he’d be teasing her about it later. Soon, threats of Cassandra would lose their effectiveness – she would have to find another weapon. 

Blessed Andraste, she was lucky that he’d come to Skyhold. Without him, this night would have been unbearable, and the prospect of facing another day unthinkable. With him, she wasn’t _happy_ , but her mood was lighter than she could have hoped. With him, she was already planning ways to circumvent his teasing so she could tease him instead.

“Hawke?” The man didn’t answer, only turned his head toward her. One brow arched in a question, but he held his peace until she was ready to continue. “Thank you. For… for tonight and… and everything. I’m glad that Varric brought you here, even if it turned Cassandra into a rabid bear for a while.”

“I’m glad too. Skyhold is a very interesting place. You’re welcome, by the way. Now Skyhold – like I said, very interesting. All the bits of rubble only add to its charm.” Alysia bit back a smile, shaking her head lightly. Apparently Hawke wasn't very good with gratitude. “Though I do have to wonder why no one has addressed… this.” He waved an arm at the hole in the wall in front of them, head tipping to one side. “It’s just asking for trouble. Don’t get me wrong, I like our little chats here, but it’s still a security issue. Why doesn’t Cullen have workman fixing it?”

“I told him that I like the way it looks. On reflection, I shouldn't have said that. I think he thought I was serious.”

“Can’t imagine why. Your tone of voice should have given away the joke – it’s so expressive.” He caught the way she glared at him and started to laugh, looking back up at the sky. “I actually had a conversation in mind earlier. You ruined it and now the timing is all off, but I’m going to going to start it anyway. Where was I… ah, yes. You can’t see my mountain because it’s dark, so we’ll have to look at the stars. Pick a favorite, please. I’ve already decided on mine.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not. We always spend half our conversations not looking at each other. Having a favorite thing to look at instead makes it easier.” Correctly interpreting her snort of disbelief, he looked over at her and flashed that smile of his. “It does! If you don’t believe me, then try it for yourself.”

“Show me yours first. If you remember which one out of all those very similar looking stars is yours, I’ll pick one for myself.”

“Alright, Lady Snark, I will.” She watched as he tipped his head back up to the sky, and she saw the exact moment that he realized he’d been so distracted by their conversation that he’d lost his star. “You know, it’s awfully late, and you’ve had a long day. I think you should go get some rest.”

“I can wait long enough to see your star, Hawke. It is your favorite, after all.” When he growled at her, she laughed, then reached out to poke his cheek. “Alright. I’ll pretend you’re shooing me because you’re concerned and not because you have no idea which star is ‘yours’.”

“My pride thanks you.” With that, he jumped up to his feet and offered her a hand. Taking hold of it, she let him help her up; she felt strangely reluctant to let him go. Looking up into his eyes, she offered him a small smile, mouth opening to thank him again. Sensing her intent, he let go of her hand and busied himself with straightening her cloak. “It’s cold, and we’ve been out here a long time – you should get inside. If the Inquisitor catches a cold because she stayed out too long chatting with me, Cullen and the Seeker will have my head.”

Trying to warm her, his hands went to her arms, briskly rubbing up and down as he studied her. “Your lips aren’t blue, so I think you’re fine. Still. Ask the servants for a nice, hot bath – don’t interrupt and tell me how late it is.” The woman glared and closed her mouth, huffing quietly. “They’re servants; it’s their _job_. Have them draw you a bath and bring some mulled cider. That will get you toasty warm and possibly a little drunk if it’s fun cider. Have you eaten?” She shook her head, which made him scowl at her. “You need to take better care of yourself, Alysia. I’ll drop by the kitchen and have them make something up. It isn’t that late, and again, it’s the cook’s job to cook. She’ll be delighted to make a dish for the Inquisitor.”

Outmaneuvered and not wanting to seem ungrateful, Alysia kept her mouth shut, locking her protests behind her lips. He waited a moment to make sure, then nodded once he was assured of her compliance. “Good girl. You’ll feel better once you’re warm, fed, and in bed under the covers, I promise.” Hawke went quiet as he reached behind her, grabbing the hood of her cloak and pulling it forward to cover her head. “I’m… It’s… You…” Scowling again, he took a deep breath and pushed past his discomfort. “I’m glad Varric had me write you that note. I’m glad I could help. Now go get warm.”

He turned and began walking away, leaving her with a bewildered expression that she felt slowly turn to a smile. Jarod Hawke was a good man, she decided. Possibly one of the best. Knowing that he was on her side, standing behind her, made her feel strong, like she could do anything; she almost felt safe enough to try. If he stayed long enough, Alysia thought that she just might find her courage. 

She only hoped she found it before she let him down.

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's been a bit of Josie and Leliana hate in this fic - I just wanted to say that I do like them! But if you don't do what they want in-game, they can both be a little terrible. I ran with that in this telling, because I think they'd run roughshod over this particular Inquisitor. She's young enough to mold, and yet too inexperienced in the ways of the world to be of any use in diplomatic ventures. I believe that would frustrate them to no end, and they'd have trouble respecting her.
> 
> I also see Cullen in the 'big brother' role, because I personally adore him and want him to be an important emotional support to the Inquisitor even if there's no romance between them. Yay author biases!


End file.
